


Perfect

by Sssyzygy1



Category: Shamy - Fandom, The Big Bang Theory (TV), sheldon x amy
Genre: F/M, sheldon_amy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:55:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25090483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sssyzygy1/pseuds/Sssyzygy1
Summary: ONE-SHOT SHAMY Sheldon's reaction to Amy showing "all kinds of ankle" (Santa Stimulation) coupled with his answer to Amy's reaction in the aftermath of Raj's revelation that he did not find Amy attractive. How will Sheldon show Amy how he feels about her?
Relationships: Sheldon Cooper/Amy Farrah Fowler
Kudos: 20





	Perfect

_And here's Amy, showing all kinds of ankle. Ankle?_

That wasn't all she was showing. Just look at her curves in that dress! That dress was a date-night dress! That dress was supposed to be for him alone. Now there were going to be who knows how many men staring lecherously at her curves. And he had already committed and began a quest of Dungeons & Dragons, so he couldn't abandon that to go with her, to protect her. D&D's appeal went immediately out the window when Leonard introduced this childish "holiday" theme. Really? Santa needs saving from the ogres!? How ridiculous. This wasn't a real quest. He took another quick glance at Amy as Penny paraded herself- practically naked he might add- in front of the whole group. Amy was all he noticed anyway. Penny with her whorish black dress, and Bernadette showing all that skin. Really! Did these girls leave nothing to the imagination? Between the lovely curve of her calves, and the rise of breasts under that simple, flowing dress, with her hair looking like a sinuous fall of locks around her shoulders, Amy looked completely stunning. He was struggling to maintain his composure and forced himself to look over at Leonard. "

I know they are making a rhetorical point,I just don't know what it is," he said aloud. He was lying. He knew exactly the point they were making. Message received, loud and clear, Dr. Fowler: Look at what you're missing. What exactly am I giving up? He could've been spending the evening with Amy, watching tv, or having dinner and debating the most recent article in Neuron. He could even have simply invited her to play D&D with them. If he had, she would be seated next to him, comfortably close and right there to share a secret smile. Instead, he had gone along with Leonard, Howard, Raj, and Stewart: boy's only just like the old days.

He had even encouraged this; in fact, he knew that a night spent separately from Amy was exactly what he needed to maintain the status quo. Things were changing between them, but by having boy's night he could control the situation. If he played D&D with the guys, instead of being with Amy, he could continue believing that nothing had changed. His feelings hadn't altered. He hadn't developed _affection_ for her.

They still had a relationship of the mind. He wasn't- of course, he wasn't- even at this very moment staring at her bottom as she walked out of his apartment on her way to drink and dance, and enjoy the advances of other men. Vehemently shaking his head, he forced himself to get back into this ridiculous game of D&D. There was time to sort through his emotions- and his endocrine system's reactions - regarding Amy later. Or, better yet, to shove those emotions and reactions back into the far recess of his mind, never to be thought of again. He returned to the game, albeit a bit reluctantly, as it was certainly not nearly as entertaining as imaging what other curves were underneath Amy's flowery, flowing dress and cardigan.

As always, he applied himself fully to the game, and because of his towering intellect - really the other players were certainly lucky he excelled at everything- they finished the quest successfully. He was also able to enact his sweet revenge against Leonard for this travesty of a quest by leaving Santa to die at the hands of the ogres, chained up and alone. He wasn't sorry. It wasn't his fault that Christmas made him feel exactly as he had all those years ago when he was five. And it's not he hid his disdain of all things yuletide. Leonard had known he wanted nothing to do with Christmas for years. This was his just desserts. And Santa? He really didn't deserve mercy. Santa was supposed to be jovial and saintly, and generous, and most of all magic! But Santa didn't bring back Pop-pop, and that's all he had ever wanted. Who cared about Lincoln Logs? It was that moment when he had realized Santa was a big, fat, phony: probably in every universe. He wouldn't feel guilty for ruining the D&D game. Didn't they know him at all?

After everyone had left, looking dejected, he straightened the apartment, as he did each night before he went to bed. As he was tidying up the dishes, his thoughts returned to Amy, and their girls' night. He glanced at the clock, it was just after 11 PM, well past his bedtime. He hadn't heard anyone come up the stairs, or enter Penny's apartment. He knew that they would all stay there if they had too much to drink. He was concerned that Amy would drive home under the effect of lingering alcohol. He trusted her to use her best judgment, but Penny was a bad influence: with Penny she drank more, she questioned him and their relationship, and doubted her appearance. All of this made Amy feel less secure and less confident. Penny didn't understand that Amy was perfect, quirks and all.

He had never known anyone as similar to himself as Amy. She was nearly as brilliant as him, and no one had come close in all his acquaintance. Admittedly, she was fascinated by the icky and squishy of neurobiology, but her heart was in the right place. She did addiction study after addiction study- all the time routing the cause and effect of addiction in all species- so that someday she could find a way to break the nastiness of addiction in humankind. That was noble, and generous of her to use her brilliant and resourceful mind to help out humanity. Oft times he thought her beautiful brain could be put to better use— for example in the field of physics where with him they could unravel the secrets of the universe— but it was her choice, and one he respected.

More, Amy was kind, far kinder than he himself. She was empathetic and compassionate, not just to his needs, but to her friends' needs. When Penny was broken-hearted over Leonard's relationship with Priya, it was Amy who had turned up at her apartment to stanch Penny's flow of snotty tears, which he himself had avoided like the plague. When he had that nasty, painful splinter, who was it that carefully and patiently removed it? And who then, cleaned and covered the wound? She even brushed a kiss over it. She said it would aid in the wound's recovery, and he had felt better being soothed.

Thinking of that gentle kiss upon his finger brought goosebumps up and down his arms. Yes, she stimulated him, mentally and - he had to reluctantly admit- even physically. She was beautiful. It wasn't just her mind, it wasn't just her personality, she was the whole package. Tonight she had looked so fetching he had been distracted from D&D. More, this was certainly not the first time he had been affected by Amy's physical appearance. Her hair was soft and shiny, and he had on many occasions felt the need to reach out and brush his fingers through it. Her eyes sparkled more than any emeralds you'd find in a fine jewelry shop. When she smiled, he felt his mind cloud with happiness and hope. And her lips? Oh, her lips did funny things to him, mind and body. When she had kissed him? He felt like he was riding a rollercoaster. His stomach dropped and his heart rate accelerated. It was exhilarating. Her lips were soft and sumptuous, and oh so alluring. His lips itched to be upon hers. it was inconceivable.

Putting the final glass away, he dragged his feet over to his spot, dropping himself onto the cushion. He heard Penny enter her apartment, shutting the door loudly. She was obviously drunk, and he could hear her singing a tune loudly and off-key as she made her way to her bedroom. The tune sounded familiar, and he hummed a bit, before allowing his thoughts to return to his current conundrum about Amy. He didn't stand a chance in hiding these emotions, not for long, anyway. His best bet was to just keep setting them aside and delaying the inevitable. It seemed like he was always fighting any forward progression in their relationship, and more, he felt he was constantly at war with himself.

His feelings for her are in constant contradiction. He wants to hold her hand in the theater, but he is also not a fan of handing. Ah, but he does desire to hold those soft hands all the time, doesn't he? When she negotiated cuddling, he complained bitterly, but really? He was tingling all over, and very happy to have her held tight against him. More often then he cared to admit, when he was alone, his thoughts would drift to the curve of her breast, and he wondered endlessly about what she would feel like should he touch her there. Would her skin be as soft as her hands? These thoughts forced him to rush to recite Pi or think of Euler's Theorem to calm his… affectation. Yes, he both wanted her, and yet he also needed to stay away from her in order to staunch his feelings and emotions and maintain a sense of self. He was afraid, truly afraid, that if he gave into this barrage of desires, that he might lose himself. As is, Amy drifted around him now, still just on the periphery of his thoughts, but always present. If he were to admit how essential she was to him, would he still be Sheldon Lee Cooper, genius? He theorized that it was possible that all his internal debates were futile. He may have already lost this battle. He was afraid he might actually be "in love". Could it be that he was nothing more than a casualty of this common human idiosyncrasy called love? He had always felt he was above that which was common.

Suddenly, his Vulcan-like hearing alerted him to an unusual noise. He tilted his head, listening carefully. A sound of distress issued from the hallway. He glanced at his watch and noticed it was just past 12 AM. His ears determined that someone was crying. Should he investigate? It was quite late after all. It was likely that the person was in some sort of trouble. It was also quite likely that he would not be able to just go to sleep, knowing full well that there was someone in the hallway. What if they were delirious and tried to break in? He knew he should've run a simulation with Leonard in accordance with the room-mate agreement quarterly disaster training sessions regarding break-ins! The crying was getting louder. He couldn't just ignore it.

He stood reluctantly, sighing at the inconvenience, and made his way to the door. He opened the door just enough to look out but he couldn't see anyone. Opening it fully, he stepped out hesitantly. He moved quietly, as to not alert whoever was crying. When he cast his glance toward the stairwell, he was surprised to find Amy, seated on the platform of the steps. Her eyes were downcast, and she seemed to be unaware of his presence. He moved soundlessly toward her. She was clearly very upset over something. He hoped she hadn't come to any harm while out with Penny. Penny would not only be the recipient of a strike, but also a sound tongue-lashing if something untoward had befallen his dear Amy.

"Amy?" he asked quietly.

Startled, Amy let out a strangled little sound and jumped. "Oh, Sheldon, um, what are you doing here?" she said this, while desperately wiping at her eyes, and looking away from him. She obviously was trying to hide her tears. But he would have none of it. He moved toward her, and germs be damned, he sat next to her on the footfall.

"Amy, what is it? Are you hurt?" He leaned toward her, his hand upon her waist, turning her toward him. Her mascara had clearly run down her cheekbones, and her eyes were red, and brimming with tears. She shook her head soundlessly. She looked even sadder than she had on the night when she had negotiated their cuddling session. "

I'm fine, Sheldon. Nothing to worry about. I'm completely… fine." her voice broke and trailed off at the end of the sentence.

"Amy, I can see with my own eyes that you aren't 'fine'. What has happened? Were you violated in any way? Did one of the men… " His eyes went wide and he found he couldn't finish that sentence, but instead he ran his hands lightly over her person, looking for injury.

"No, no, nothing like that Sheldon. I'm ok. No one bothered me. Of course no one bothered me, I'm practically invisible. No one even looks twice, let alone pushes me beyond decorum. Even Raj never fell for me!"

She was rambling and he was struggling to make sense of what she had said. Relieved that no physical harm had come to her, he enclosed her small hand with his to offer comfort. Suddenly what she was saying registered in his mind. Now he felt uncomfortable, and the heat of anger slowly crept up his neck. What did she mean even Raj never 'fell' for her? Was Amy interested in Raj? Or worse, was Raj interested in Amy? He did not understand the dynamics here. Amy was not for Raj! Amy was his! He hold on her hand tightened until she protested.

"Ouch, Sheldon, that hurts."

He immediately dropped her hand, recalcitrant. "Sorry. Amy, I'm confused. I require clarification. If you are physically well, then why are you crying in the stairwell of my apartment, after midnight?"

"I don't really know. I shared an Uber with Penny, as my car is here. Penny bounded up the stairs, with barely a goodnight. I climbed the stairs because i realized that i had left my keys in her apartment. I made it this far, but I, Sheldon, what's wrong with me? Why don't people like me? Why don't people see me? Raj admitted tonight that he had developed crushes on both Penny and Bernadette, and when I asked him if he'd ever thought about me that way, it became quite clear that not only had he not ever considered me as a mate, but that the idea was repulsive to him. I know I'm not as pretty as Bernadette. I could never be as pretty as Penny, but why am I repulsive? What is it about me that drives men away?" At the end of her tirade, she put her hands to her face, and her tears returned.

Now Sheldon was even angrier. Why did his Amy feel this way? What had Raj said? He was comforted a little that Raj was not interested in Amy- he would not have to kill him after all and that made things easier- but why did Raj's disinterest displease Amy? Why would she think no man was interested in her? Clearly, he himself was interested in her. He was her boyfriend after all! He patted her back gently, hoping to give comfort, as he puzzled out what response he would make.

"Amy," he ventured, "Men do not find you repulsive, but I'm quite relieved that Raj has no feelings for you. His death would certainly upset the balance of our social group." She lifted her tear-stained face to his, with a short-lived smile. Looking at her, he was suddenly overcome; He found her devastatingly beautiful. He reached over, and gently pulled her glasses from her face. He looked deeply into her eyes. Flushing, he admitted quietly, "I'm actually quite pleased other men aren't cognizant of how lovely you are: You have dreamboat eyes." He said this knowing this would comfort, but also speaking nothing but the truth.

She shook her head, denying this statement. "No, Sheldon, don't say things you don't mean. You don't have to enact the boo-boos and ouchies clause for me. I'm not sick. You're not contractually obligated to care for me." She tried to pull her hands from his. He resisted, maintaining their contact. He let one hand, slip, though, as he raised his other hand to her face, using his thumb to wipe away a glimmering tear holding tight to her eyelash. There was a quick intake of breath, and he realized Amy was startled by his touch. He could not back away now, not when she needed to understand how much she meant to him. He would not have her courting other men for self-esteem. She belonged to him, and it was his job to not only reassure her of her desirability but also, to mark her as his. If she felt this worthless and insecure, and clearly her tears proved that assumption, then he had failed in his duty. All the theorizing in the world would leave way to one conclusion: he had to tell Amy how he felt, and more, he must, at least in part, show her how he felt. "

I always mean what I say, Amy. You know that. I do not have the disposition to lie well. You are far from repulsive to me. You are beautiful, in every way." They leaned toward each other, involuntarily, drawn closer. He tried to convey the depth of his feelings with his eyes. Nearly whispering, he reached up to brush his fingers across her brow, and to tuck her hair behind her ears. "Your eyes remind me of the sea, they are so green and gold. I often lose myself in then when you look at me." His hand trailed down her cheek, holding it lightly. "Your voice is a symphony, both stimulating and calming in its melody. Your lips are so pink and full, and I think about them meeting mine more often then I care to admit." As he spoke, his thumb trailed across her bottom lip. Amy shivered. "Your cheeks are all rose and cream, and your skin is so soft I itch to touch you. Repulsive? Impossible! Everything about you is alluring and oh so lovely. You distract me, Amy Farrah Fowler. I see your face appear when I'm working an equation. I hear your voice in my head, guiding my actions. You are the epitome of perfection."

Her brow wrinkled in confusion. "But, ours is a relationship of the mind. You've said that."

His eyebrows lifted of their own volition. "Yes, of course. I could never be attracted to anyone without a resourceful and intelligent mind. But you have many other traits, in abundance, that attract me as well." He leaned ever closer, "Please, Amy, believe me when I say, I desire you. In every way. Let me show you,"

He stood, reaching his hand to her, and she took it. She grabbed her glasses and placed them back on her face. He helped her to stand, and together they moved to the hallway. He pulled into his arms, never breaking eye contact, and began to sway with her, back and forth in a light dance. He nuzzled into her hair, encapsulating her hand with his, and pulling it to sit across his heart. He could feel her heart beating at the base of her wrist, as he brushed his thumb back and forth against that pulse-point. "You smell good," he whispered into her ear, his lips vibrating against that sensitive flesh. He began to hum the tune he had heard earlier. It was rather appropriate after all.

He sang quietly while they danced. "I found a love for me. Darling, just dive right in and follow my lead. Well, I found a girl, innocent and sweet. I never knew you were the someone waiting for me…. Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms. Barefoot on the grass, we're listening to our favorite song. When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breathe, you heard it, Darling you look perfect tonight." When he came to the end of the verse, he came to a slow stop. He looked deeply into her eyes. He leaned in so close that his lips nearly touched hers. "Perfect for me," he whispered and sealed his declaration with a soft kiss. He felt wetness on his cheek, and he inched apart, concerned.

"Happy tears," she whispered, shrugging lightly She moved her hands up his chest and took his face in her hands to lead his lips to hers once again.

He was a casualty of love, after all, he thought astounded. He smiled and wrapped his arms around her, swaying with her to the music only they could hear.

_ Perfect. _

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading my stories, everyone! I'm having a lot of fun writing them, and I hope they are bringing you a least some happiness. #All Hail the Dirty Sock! # Shamy forever!
> 
> Please review! I'm hoping to continue to improve!


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